


Tu vas me manquer

by CandyAdler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Grief, Hidden meanings, Kissing, Love, M/M, Vague Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyAdler/pseuds/CandyAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was after their time together, once their flushed, naked and sweaty bodies were curled around each other in bed that John heard those words again. They were hushed and breathlessly whispered, but John perked up his ears once he heard them.</p>
<p>“Tu vas me manquer.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tu vas me manquer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-undecided-fangirl.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the-undecided-fangirl.tumblr.com).



He observed him continuously. Pale eyes followed him, secretly, just as he went about his everyday business. Making a cup of tea, reading a book; no matter what, Sherlock’s eyes remained on him. 

But every time John looked back and each time the gaze was returned, it seemed Sherlock had never been looking in the first place.

It had been like that for months, ever since they’d decided upon their relationship. It was love and it was spontaneous and despite what John thought, most certainly mutual. 

Sherlock had been observing him more closely, over the past few week, taking in everything the Doctor had to offer him. Each twitch of his lips, turn of his head.. each blink was something that Sherlock took note of - but this time, he allowed John to catch him doing it. And each time he was caught, he’d turn his attention back to what he was doing and mutter something under his breath. 

“Tu vas me manquer.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The confrontation, the final confrontation, was soon approaching and he knew it. Every time he looked over at Sherlock, he appeared to be fine- but he noticed how strained the poker face had become and the solemness he portrayed it with.

For Sherlock’s sake, he had pretended not to notice. Pretended that everything was okay and he carried on as usual, although his own visage was muddled with sadness too. He was scared, scared for his friend. Scared for the man he loved. While the Detective quietly plucked a few tuneless chords on his violin, once again looking somber, John moved to the kitchen, but still listened- then he heard the quiet phrase again. 

“Tu vas me manquer.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The final time Sherlock said those words, was after they made love.

He had called John over to him after dinner, his dulcet tones softly commanding his presence in the living room and a gentle wave of a hand called him to the couch. After days of seeming absent, pre-occupied and dejected, Sherlock was giving John his everything. All of his attention and focus and senses were focused on the man before him- taking in the creases in his clothes, the wrinkles in his face and the hue of his eyes. 

He was truly mesmerising, and the Detective couldn’t bring himself to look away. Not even as his hands caressed course denim and his lips found his lover’s own. They gazed at each other whilst their lips moved together, then John allowed his eyes to slip shut. He kissed shyly, tentatively moving his chapped lips against Sherlock’s as he threaded his hands through the curly, dark mess of his hair. Within seconds ,the chasteness was gone and their lips melded together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking while their hearts raced as their bodies against one another’s. John’s eyes slowly opened, half-lidded against flushed cheeks once he noticed Sherlock’s eyes were looking back at him, sharp yet tender, with pupils dilated; and probably had been the whole time. It made him feel self conscious and scrutinised, but the Doctor couldn’t bring himself to look away once he had caught the Detective’s gaze.

The flushed skin of John’s face, paired with his now tousled hair made Sherlock stop the kiss, gasp for breath and then rendered him completely speechless. His words, though he continually tried to force them out had caught in his throat. He couldn’t find a way to describe him, or words that could convey how he was feeling. This time when they kissed, Sherlock delved into it with a low moan and a faint flush of his own. Their hands fumbled across each other, peeling off shirts and caressing skin. Sherlock pulled John’s hips against his own, noting the hitch in his breath as he pressed a thigh between john’s denim covered legs.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was after their time together, once their flushed, naked and sweaty bodies were curled around each other in bed that John heard those words again. They were hushed and breathlessly whispered, but John perked up his ears once he heard them.

“Tu vas me manquer.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was six months after Sherlock’s death before John discovered what those words had meant, and the foreshadowing towards recent events that they had meant. He’d forgotten about them, in the moment. In the moment of grief and loss and heart-wrenching pain that was his lover’s death, he had forgotten them; but they came to him at night. They came to him each time he looked to the violin. Each time he curled up in bed, and each time he caught eye contact with one of Sherlock’s photographs.

It was six months after Sherlock’s death that John had woken up in his sleep, unable to fall back into slumber, drenched in his own sweat and panting harshly- needing comfort, and rest and to say something long overdue.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

He had sprinted, sprinted to the only place where he knew peace and fallen to his knees- chest tight, breathing heavy and, not so much as wincing in pain at the impact of his body to the ground, his hands pressing up against the stone. 

“I get it. I understand now… How could you have known? “

His voice was torn, hoarse with grief as he rested against the headstone. The man was distraught, his head hanging lowly whilst he forced back the tears.

“Tu vas me manquer… Tu vas me manquer!” John cried, his voice growing more hoarse with each second, the tears making his speech thick, slow and throaty.

From behind him, he failed to acknowledge the rustle of leaves- the sounds of boots and a soft, guilt filled sigh.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sight of him, this upset.. gagging with each sob, panting for air and unable to speak for the crying- made up Sherlock’s mind for him.

His feet carried him where his mind wouldn’t, his face stern, his body anxious and scared. He spoke softly.. quietly, almost gently spoke the words-

 

“Yes, John. I told you: ‘I’ll miss you.’ “

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction for the Sherlock fandom- A gift for my wonderful friend ' The-Undecided-Fangirl' on Tumblr. Feedback is much appreciated. <3


End file.
